Hard Rock Improv

by Ava Lore

  My brain was blank with fury. “That has nothing to do with it!” I cried. “I don’t care if you have money or not, or whatever you think I want! I just wanted to help you!” I took a deep breath. I hadn’t wanted to tell him this, because it was so disgusting, because it made me feel so cheap, but maybe if he knew the threat he was under... “Do you know what Yago said to me yesterday? What he wanted me to do?”

  “What?”

  “He wanted me to sleep with him, and then he wouldn’t commit you!”

  To my dismay, Manny snorted. “He’s an idiot. He just wants what I have. He always wants what I have.” He shook his head. “I guess I’ll just have to let him send me off to the crazy house then. I don’t care.”

  “But you don’t have to let him!” I couldn’t believe this. “Let me help you!”

  “I don’t need your help,” he snapped. “You think I’m helpless? You think I couldn’t get that power of attorney rescinded if I wanted to? I could do it.”

  I shook my head. “Then why haven’t you? What’s stopping you?”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  Stung, I took a step backwards, staring at him. The laughing, loving man I thought I knew had disappeared, leaving this angry stranger behind.

  This is why you stick to the Plan, my thoughts whispered. You do it so you don’t get hurt.

  I swallowed. “You don’t mean that,” I said. “I just want you to be free of them. I didn’t mean to...to insult you or anything...I don’t want your money.”

  He shook his head. “Then why are you so pushy about getting it back?”

  “It’s not about the money!”

  Manny lifted his hands and took a step back. “You know what? Fine. It’s not about the money. In that case, you won’t bring it up again.”

  Frustration bubbled inside, pushing words up through my throat and out my mouth before I could think about them. “How can you not want to fight them? Doesn’t it bother you that Yago wanted me to fuck him?”

  “No.”

  I was shaking. “Why?”

  He shrugged again. “Because you wouldn’t do it. That’s not you.”

  “But you’ll just go quietly when the guys in white jackets show up? That doesn’t sound like you either! These people are keeping you from living your life!”

  He was shaking his head. “No they aren’t. I am living my life. I don’t care what they do, what they want from me. I’m fine. You’re the one who’s worried about it. You shouldn’t even be here, since I’m putting you in danger. I don’t get why you don’t want to leave.”

  Because I care about you! I wanted to scream. It was on my tongue, ready to be shouted out to the world.

  But in the end I was too much of a coward to say it. For a long, uncomfortable moment we stared at each other as the sun rose and the clouds closed in. Then Manny shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to go smoke out with people who don’t give a shit whether or not I have money.” He turned and started down the beach, heading for the gaggle of homeless men gathered together and—I could now see—passing something around. A joint. Great.

  Inside my chest, my heart was raging, curling up in pain. That he could have thought something like that of me...comparing me to that girl he’d known when he was a teenager...It was too much. I’d been ready to jump feet first into something with Emmanuel Reyes, even though he wasn’t part of the plan, even though he wasn’t anything like what I had envisioned for myself. As we’d spent time together on this island, I’d started to wonder if maybe I shouldn’t have been planning every aspect of my life—after all, if I had, Manny would have never come into it.

  My throat closed, feeling full of razors, and tears prickled in my nose. I was a wounded animal. I wanted to hurt him, the same way he’d hurt me. I stared at his retreating back, my breath coming quick and fast, in tiny bursts.

  My vision blurred with furious tears. “Oh yeah?” I called after him. “Well maybe you really do belong in the nut house! Because only a crazy person would put up with that kind of bullshit when they didn’t have to!”

  His stride faltered, his magnificent shoulders stiffening. But he didn’t turn back, and that was probably just as well. After the slightest of hitches in his step, he kept going. Down the beach. Toward the oblivion that drugs could give him.

  Hot tears fell from my lashes, cooling instantly in the early morning breeze. My fists closed, my heart in tatters, I turned away from him and ran all the way back to the beach house, leaving our body guard—and my budding dreams of love—in the sand behind me.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ben Franklin had it all wrong, I thought. Wine is the proof that God loves us, not beer.

  I smiled, somewhat crookedly, at the glass of pale, fruity alcohol in my hand and gave it a swirl like I’d seen people do at movies and at the high-end cocktail parties I’d sometimes had to attend back when I’d been employed. Unfortunately I’d already imbibed most of a bottle in a very short amount of time. Wine sloshed over the rim, splashing over my hand and against the wood of the lanai.

  Aww, I thought. I licked the remnants from my fingers and sighed. Soon I’d have to go inside and get another bottle. It was about one in the afternoon and the band probably wasn’t going to be back for at least another five or six hours. I had the whole beach house to myself—minus, of course, the two security guards posted at the front and back doors—and I intended to get thoroughly drunk in it. I had nothing better to do, after all.

  Manny hadn’t come back to the house after our fight that morning. Or...was it even a fight? I couldn’t tell. It had felt like he’d flicked a switch and changed personalities. I’d had no idea that telling him I wanted him in my life could have set him off like that.

  Of course, you probably could have worded it better...

  I took another gulp of wine. A big one. It burned a little on its way down. My stomach was not happy with me for dumping wine on it instead of lunch.

  At any rate, no Manny. I’d trudged back up to our room, passing Rebecca on my way there.

  She’d stopped in her tracks when she’d seen my face. “Rose!” she’d said. “What’s wrong?”

  I’d been so upset I hadn’t even told her. I’d just waved a hand and disappeared into the room and closed the door behind me. For good measure I’d locked it as well. Then I had crawled into the beautiful white bed, stared out at the sea, and fallen into a restless, miserable sleep.

  By the time I woke up the sky was a light gray color and the house was quiet. The band had gone to the set without me.

  But of course they did, I thought. You aren’t necessary. Without Manny, you aren’t anything to this group of people. I was an outsider still. Just Rebecca’s boring sister, who made plans and ruined everything good that came her way. Timid Rose, who couldn’t even enjoy a fuckbuddy and a vacation on a superficial level. Just had to go out of your way. Just had to get involved. Just had to make more plans without asking anyone else first...

  Oh yes. I had been planning things with Manny, in the back of my mind. That was the worst part. I had wanted him to fit into my plans. I had felt like the family thing was a problem to be resolved, and I could help but want to resolve it. And then we could get on with my plans. As if we were in a story.

  At about eleven I’d started in on the bottle of wine, hoping to inebriate my way out of caring about what happened to Manny or what his stupid, piece of shit family did to him.

  It wasn’t working. With each glass, I became more and more miserable, and more and more convinced that I should help Manny. I should get that medical power of attorney back from the chuckle-fucks who didn’t give a shit about him. Even if he hated me forever or thought I was an asshole and never wanted to see me again, I wanted to free him from this terrible sword of Damocles hanging above his head.

  They will use it against him, I thought. They’ll do it again. I have no doubt. But when and how was a mystery, one that Manny seemed content to ignore. When I tried to imagine wha
t it must be like to be him, I couldn’t even fathom why he didn’t fight them tooth and nail. The fear, never knowing when someone might decide you hadn’t paid them enough and send you to rehab or to a sanatorium...it would paralyze me. That Manny hadn’t fought it baffled me.

  That Manny hadn’t rolled over completely and lost his joy in life inspired me.

  I wanted to save him. Despite all the relationship gurus who said that was not a good idea.

  I sighed again and drained my glass, then reached for the bottle to refill it. After about five seconds of no wine coming out I realized that it was empty and that if I wanted more wine I would have to go in the house and actually open a bottle and pour that one into my glass. I wasn’t certain that I had the requisite coordination to do so, but, in the end, I decided that I was going to give it a go anyway. Alcohol always makes me optimistic.

  Turning around, I slumped to my hands and knees, took a few deep breaths and then pushed myself up to my feet. I swayed, the porch reeling around me, then staggered to the door. I fumbled with it for a moment before I remembered it was a sliding door, then opened it and stumbled inside.

  The wood flooring felt good on my feet, and I let my soles slap down on it with gusto as I wove through the hallway to the living room. There was more wine in the kitchen, and there was a huge flat screen TV on the living room wall, just above the fireplace. If I didn’t make it back to the lanai, I could always crash on one of the couches and watch Cartoon Network for the rest of the day.

  Yeah. That sounded like just the thing.

  Plan firmly in place, I stumbled into the kitchen to find a new bottle of wine and a corkscrew to open it with.

  Sonya was there.

  I stopped short. Given how much alcohol I’d had, ‘short’ meant ‘three stumbling steps before catching myself on a counter.’ At least I hadn’t fallen down. Sonya would have laughed in my face.

  As it was, she was still intimidating. Her brilliant green eyes turned to me and took my measure as I tried to take in what I was seeing. She, too, had decided that a bottle of wine would not go amiss, but instead of pouring herself a glass she was holding the bottle in one hand.

  Is she...? My thoughts were only half-formed before Sonya raised the bottle to her lips and took a huge swig, never taking her wide, clear eyes from my face.

  Oh. She is.

  “What are you doing here?” I said stupidly. “I thought you were going to be on the set for the rest of the day.” Oh god, what if the rest of the band were here, too? Quickly I glanced around, but the swift movement caused me to lose my balance and I stumbled straight into the island in the middle of the kitchen.

  “Ow,” I said. That was going to hurt when I started feeling things again.

  Sonya’s eyes narrowed and she took another swig from her bottle. “You smell like a wino,” she said when she put the bottle down.

  I stared at her, trying to focus. “So do you,” I countered.

  Excellent. I know you are but what am I? No wonder you haven’t been able to find another job in law, dumbass.

  “No I don’t,” Sonya countered. “I smell like a fucking bed of summer roses.”

  I blinked. “Are the roses fucking?” I asked. “Or is it a bed made of roses, for fucking on?”

  She scowled. “Yes,” she said. “What am I, your star witness?”

  Yeah. That’s Sonya. Dizzily I rubbed a hand over my face and tried to get a handle on the situation. “Why are you here?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “My shooting’s done. The director sent me home.”

  My eyebrows shot up to my hairline. “Wow, really?” I said. “I thought he was going to keep you all there until next month.”

  “I have a secret weapon,” Sonya said. “It’s called complaining. Eventually it wears down even the most noble artistes.”

  “Oh.” I said.

  She shrugged. “And what are you doing here? Besides drinking through Manny’s stock of wine, that is?”

  I blinked. “Manny’s wine?”

  She nodded. “This is his house. Therefore this is his wine.”

  “I thought you guys shared everything,” I said, and then I realized how jealous I sounded.

  Sonya looked amused. “No,” she said. “It’s entirely his. Why would I want this old dump when I can just fly down to Mexico whenever I need some sun and surf?”

  I stared at her. “This is a dump?” I said.

  She shrugged. “There are better places, even on these godforsaken islands, but he had to have this one.”

  “Oh,” I said again.

  She shot me an irritated look. “Is that all you can say, you drunk skunk?”

  “No,” I replied.

  “Then what are you doing here drinking through Manny’s stock of wine?”

  I tried to think of a good excuse, but all I could think of was the truth. After all, it had been burning a hole in my brain for the past three hours. With a sigh, I leaned on the cool granite of the island and clasped my hands. Staring at them, I admitted: “I think Manny and I had a fight.”

  Sonya was quiet for a moment. Then: “You think you had a fight? You either did or you didn’t, kittentits. Should be obvious if it was a fight. Screaming, dramatic pauses, pulling hair. Any of that?” She took another swig from her bottle, her eyes bright.

  Kittentits? Dazed, I shook my head. “Nothing like that!” I said. “It’s just...Manny thinks I’m after his money. Or something.”

  Her green eyes narrowed again. “Are you?” she demanded.

  “No!” Why would anyone think that of me? I’d been camping in my car, and not by choice, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t take care of myself! In fact, it was pretty good evidence that I could take care of myself. But Sonya didn’t even know that part. For all she knew I was a rich lawyer who made good money.

  She tilted her head. “Well, something must have made him think that.”

  I sighed with exasperation, my frustration chasing away some of the good vibes I was getting from my wine buzz, which just made me more frustrated. I was going to pay dearly for this indulgence tomorrow—or later tonight—and I wanted to enjoy it, damn it!

  Now where were we? Oh yeah, Manny’s totally asshole assumption. “All I said was that I wanted to help him get his medical power of attorney back from his uncle.” And it was still a good idea, no matter what weird hang-ups Manny had about it. Defiant, I crossed my arms and lifted my chin.

  But Sonya was shaking her head. “Well no wonder,” she said. “That’s a pretty sore point for him.”

  “Yeah,” I said drily, “I kind of figured that out.”

  She snorted. “Not soon enough or you wouldn’t be here.”

  I opened my mouth to protest—even if I’d known how sensitive he was about the whole power of attorney thing, I still would have brought it up. But maybe that was what had made Manny so angry. He already had enough people meddling in his life; perhaps he thought I was one of them?

  I closed my mouth and stared sadly at the empty glass in my hand.

  Am I really just like his family? Manipulating him to my own ends? I hadn’t been doing it consciously, but perhaps I had done it by accident. Or had I been planning to do it?

  I didn’t even know. How was I supposed to do anything when I couldn’t trust myself?

  Sonya’s bottle appeared before me as she poured wine into my glass. “If it makes you feel any better,” she said, “he gets mad at me when I mention it, too, and we’ve been best friends for ten years.”

  I watched as red liquid filled up my glass and wondered how much of it was backwash. Then I thought, Who cares? I downed it.

  Smacking my lips I put the glass back on the counter top. Sonya refilled it while I pondered her words.

  “I don’t think that makes me feel any better,” I said. “That just means he’ll never get the gumption to do it.”

  Sonya put her bottle down and I felt her eyes on me. I looked up into her startling green gaze. “I’m sorry,” she said, �
�do you think he hasn’t tried?”

  I blinked. “Yes?” I said. “I mean, he kind of implied it was beneath his notice...”

  Sonya shook her head. “He’s tried. But that was back before he was famous. He still thinks he couldn’t get it back now, even though no judge would deny him, considering the media shit show that would descend if anyone had even an inkling that his family had tried to buy off the justice system.”

  I sucked air between my teeth. My drunk brain was having a little difficulty following this. “Are you saying that they have?”

  She shrugged. “Of course they have. That’s why they stay here in Hawaii. It’s easier and cheaper to buy people’s loyalty out here than it would be in the middle of Los Angeles. It’s not like they’re the fucking Sopranos or something. They have to make the money they bilk out of him stretch as far as it can go. They haven’t done anything to him in years, but just the threat of it scares him. I don’t even think they could. Not with them on the islands and him on the mainland.”

  I rubbed a hand over my forehead. “And you think that now he could get it back easily?”

  She took a swig from the wine bottle. “Maybe,” she said. “It’s hard to say, I guess. If they got arrested for anything big, we could use that against them in court, but they don’t get in trouble here. They know all the cops—I mean, they went to school with half of them—and their dad would be the one you have to catch doing something illegal. I know they like to smoke weed and some of them do meth and coke, but that’s the sort of thing that the cops here will overlook if they’re a friend. So I gave up with the anonymous tips.” She wrinkled her nose in irritation. “No evidence, no crime, no leverage.”

  Fuck, I thought. “You’ve really been doing some leg work on this,” I said.

  “Extensively,” she replied, frowning. “Do you think I’m just a pretty face?”

  I held up a hand. “No! No, absolutely not. I’m just surprised that he hasn’t agreed to give it another shot.”

  She looked at the bottle in her hand, tilting her head speculatively. “I don’t really blame him,” she said after a few moments. “He and I...we both know how easily people will lie to your face, and how they’ll do anything to get their hands on you. Use you. He’s still...” She waved a hand in the general vicinity of her heart. “...Still a teenager, in here. He’s still wounded by all the things they’ve done to him. And they never go away, so he never has time to heal up. They show up on the mainland at random, and it always spooks him.”